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rqgnarok · 4 years ago

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in the face of death - derek hale

fandom: teen wolf

words: 1765

warnings: talk of blood and violence, death, teen wolf spoilers, if you haven’t finished the series? werewolf!female!reader

summary: derek faces the anuk-ite and the confrontations opens up old wounds that never really healed.

author’s note below.

“Derek?”

Derek turns around, a feeling not quite like panic but awareness of the danger he’s in making goosebumps erupt through his skin and the hairs at the back of his neck to stand, his eyes closing quickly when Lydia’s warning from earlier echoes in his head: shut your eyes!

“Derek,” he frowns, because he knows it’s not her, is completely aware that (Y/N) left for Gerard’s armory with Lydia and Stiles, but it is her voice. He spent years familiarizing himself with the tone and pitch, tattooing it to his memory at first unwillingly, but then welcoming the knowledge of how (Y/N) sounded like when she was in danger, when she was frustrated or angry at him, when she was in mourning or in love.

It was only a part of what it meant to fall for someone like (Y/F/N), and now he knows her well enough to understand that it's not her, talking to him and walking from the end of the hallway, nearing him with careful, calculated steps.

Still, he tightens his jaw and draws his claws out because knowing isn’t enough. Derek’s been away from home for too long, not as long as he expected but definitely long enough for him to miss her terribly. Their lousy goodbye in the middle of the fucking desert left a lot to desire; if he could turn back time he would’ve kissed her straight on the mouth instead of dodging her sad eyes and closing his own to press a rough, long kiss to the crown of her head.

“Derek, it’s okay,” the voice calls for him, he can hear it closerclosercloser, but he can’t move, can’t turn around, he’s not sure that if he does he’ll fight the shapeshifter off of him or fall straight into its game. He panics, for a moment, wonders if the reason why the Anuk-Ite is so good at pretending to be (Y/N) is because he’s already got to her before Scott could fix any of this, even before Gerard’s hunters had a chance to fight her first.

A shiver, his fingers tremble at how bad he’s tensing them, his jaw and shoulders ache.

“It’s over,” it tries to win him over, and the soft fingers clutching his right shoulder catch him off guard even if they shouldn’t. And, damn it, it has got (Y/N)’s touch down to a T, too, skin perfect despite the fights and battles she’s gotten into, a werewolf’s healing nature erasing any physical scar she might’ve acquired during their suicidal-like stunts to save the town from the supernatural and vice versa.

But Derek knows none of them have gotten out of them truly intact, is more than aware of those wounds hidden deep inside their minds and not so easy to notice, impossible to really truly heal from them completely.

It takes Derek a moment too long to shift away from the hold and he knows, he knows he’s trapped, done for, as good as dead as Peter, who was waiting for him, Scott and Malia at the entrance of the school, features forever caught off guard and set in stone if they don’t fix this soon. “It’s okay, you can look now.”

“You’re not real,” he bites back, turning around suddenly and throwing a punch so blind not because his eyes are closed but because Derek’s always been weak when it comes to her, and since he came back they’ve barely shared a couple of stolen looks before Scott sent them all on different ways. As he faces Death right now Derek can only think I hope she knows how I feel. He hopes that those looks conveyed everything he was trying to say, the I’m sorry I left, I still love you, I don’t think I ever stopped missing you-

“I’m right here,” there’s a smile in those words, Derek’s been away for a while but he remembers what it looks like and how it tastes, and the memory of (Y/N) grinning sleepily back at him as the sun rises through the windows of his loft, eyes soft and happy and Derek’s sure hand on the small of her back as if that simple touch could protect her of every evil in Gerard Argent’s bestiary. is the only thing keeping him from opening his eyes and surrendering.The moment he does the memory fades, left behind on the back of his eyelids and forgotten as he’s turned into stone. “I’m here, Derek, and so are you, you came home. I didn’t think you would.”

His tightly shut eyes soften almost involuntarily, there’s nostalgia and residual hurt from when he drove away and left her standing outside the abandoned church, and this is the kind of reprimand he expected to be thrown at him when he came back, yet it still feels like a sucker punch to the stomach. He momentarily forgets this isn’t the girl he left behind and lets himself be swallowed by the guilt of his actions.

When he first came back to Beacon Hills after the fire he realized that he wasn’t the best at running away, and the second time he left he expected to be better at it, except now he’s got something to run to rather than away from, and that’s how he realizes, he was always meant to end up here: in the middle of a war he’s been fighting his entire life for just being what he was born as, but willing to give his life to it if it means (Y/N) won’t have to live with the repercussions of their kind.

“But you did, you’re here,” she coos, soft and somehow incredibly personal. It’s not everybody (Y/F/N) doesn’t acknowledge with an almost harsh sarcasm Derek’s sure she got from hanging out with Stiles too much. There’s a hand reaching for one of his own and it's amazing how quickly the claws draw back, he lets it be held despite knowing better. “You came back, that’s all that matters to me. Derek, please, open your eyes.”

He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, even when she guides his hand to rest on top of her heart, feeling it beat underneath his fingertips and being too unfocused, blindsided to realize that he can’t actually hear it, a sound he’s learned to identify as easily as her voice.

No, for now, he trusts his touch, his fingers as they follow the path to her face through her collarbones and the slope of her neck, sighing out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in since he decided to drive back to Beacon Hills as (Y/N) leans into his touch, the weight familiar against his palm.

“We can skip town,” she suggests, light and hopeful with an underlining of satisfaction as he remains putty in her grip. Derek’s too enamoured to notice, resolve weakened by the presence of the shapeshifter that’s been haunting his hometown and his traitorous heart, which insists on focusing on literally anything but the matter at hand. “Get in your car, drive to wherever the hell we want. You always wanted a home away from the city, we can do that. I wanna go with you, Derek, please let me go with you.”

I’d take you anywhere he admits to himself, a fact he wasn’t ready to acknowledge a year and a half ago. It had taken him less than an hour into his drive to realize how true it was, but at the time he was convinced that it was the right thing to do, letting her go and trusting she’d be safer with a pack that had people like Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski in it. However blind their optimism and suicidal their plans could be they were good kids, and were certainly better at protecting the people they cared about than Derek had been his whole life.

“Please, don’t leave me behind again.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“Then look at me,” she insists, and the air reeks of something Derek can’t recognize, at least nothing he relates to (Y/N) at all, and that should be one of the many warning signs he should’ve taken into consideration to realize that he’s letting his guard down so quickly it’s so fucking stupid. There’s a hand in his hair, slowing down to settle at the back of his neck. “Please, Derek, don’t leave me, look at me-”

“I-”

“Why won’t you look at me?” she covers his hand with her own, and the intensity of her grip along with the fire in her voice is what makes him pull away, too out of character and out of place for the Anuk-Ite to keep the charade any longer, to pretend it’s something, someone it’s not. Derek takes his hand back with a harshness to his movements, his claws back in display and fangs ready to fight his way out of it.

Its voice, shaky with a fury that does not belong to (Y/N) and never has in the years Derek has known her, breaks the spell, and if he weren’t in so much fucking trouble, the born werewolf would laugh. The Anuk-Ite’s greatest advantage in a fight has just become its downfall, unable to perfectly recreate the only person Derek knows better than he knows himself.

After all these years sometimes he fears he’s forgotten the voices of those he lost in the fire, their mannerisms and their familiar expressions. If it weren’t for his mother’s visits in his dreams, his family’s eyes and manners alive in Cora’s and Peter’s faces, he would’ve.

But there’s no way he’d forget her, he knew it the first time after he spent the whole afternoon with her in a injured daze with a wolfsbane bullet deep inside his arm, he knew it when he left her behind in that desert with the taste of salty, bloody skin imprinted on his mouth, still tingling as he drove away and watched her through the rearview mirror until (Y/N) became nothing more than something else he’d left behind in Beacon Hills.

And he knows it now, as he opens his eyes, helpless, aware that the last thing he is going to see is the one monster he couldn’t save his hometown from. His thoughts blur together into a senseless babble inside his head, I hope they make it out, Scott, does he have enough time, please, take care of her for me, tell her I’m sorry, tell (Y/N) I love-

He gives into the darkness.

i wrote this like seven months ago and just wrote a quick ending so i could upload something, mostly cause its been over a year since i have written anything, let alone completed it and i’m still working on the requests you have been sending out.

its been a long year with a horrible writers block but i kinda do like this, so here it is, for you. i hope you like it. i also have a vague idea for a scott piece i wanna write but im not sure i will, lmao, tho writing for teen wolf is really, really easy for me, idk why. anyways, whatever.

stay home and stay safe.

- e.

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c-ptsdrecovery · 5 years ago

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“Did it ever get physical?”

This is often the first question we ask someone we know or suspect is in an unhealthy relationship. While starting a conversation around physical abuse is essential, the issue is when it’s the only question we ask.

Stopping short of inquiring about other forms of abuse implies that physical violence is the defining factor of an unhealthy relationship. Even worse, it conveys the message that whatever else might be going on is just “not that bad.”

This is a huge issue, because emotional abuse can absolutely be that bad.

Even if relationship never gets physically abusive, emotional abuse can escalate over time with devastating consequences, even death. And while emotional abuse does not always lead to physical abuse, physical abuse in relationships is nearly always preceded and accompanied by emotional abuse.[i]

Why don’t we hear more about emotional abuse? In addition to the common misconception that it’s just not that serious, many people simply aren’t sure what emotional abuse actually entails.

My aim here is to help you understand what emotional abuse really means and what makes it so dangerous so that you’re better equipped to start the conversation. Because if you want to stop it, you first have to know what you’re dealing with.

Defining Emotional Abuse

Understanding emotional abuse is complicated for many reasons. One reason is because there are several different names used interchangeably to refer to the same kind of abuse, including emotional abuse/violence, psychological abuse/violence, and mental abuse. For simplicity, we’ll use “emotional abuse” going forward.

Another complication is that there isn’t one accepted definition of emotional abuse. It seems that everyone has a slightly different version.

We’ve identified several common threads that make up the most widely accepted definitions and combined them here to create the following description of emotional abuse:

Emotional abuse is any abusive behavior that isn’t physical, which may include verbal aggression, intimidation, manipulation, and humiliation, which most often unfolds as a pattern of behavior over time that aims to diminish another person’s sense of identity, dignity and self worth, and which often results in anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts or behaviors, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

Wow, that’s a lot.

Each part of the definition presents its own complications to fully grasping the reality of emotional abuse, so let’s dissect what this really means, piece by piece.

Breaking Down Emotional Abuse

1.“…any abusive behavior that isn’t physical…”

Pretty broad, right? Emotional abuse is difficult to comprehend because it encompasses so much. Just take a look at the non-exhaustive list[ii] below of behaviors that are potentially emotionally abusive:

Intimidation

Manipulation

Refusal to ever be pleased

Blaming

Shaming

Name-calling

Insults

Put-downs

Sarcasm

Infantilization

Silent treatment

Trivializing

Triangulation

Sabotage

Gaslighting

Scapegoating

Blame-shifting

Projection

Ranking and comparing

Arbitrary and unpredictable inconsistency

Threatening harm

Forced isolation

We specify “potentially” abusive behaviors because some of the behaviors on this list could occur in a healthy context as well. Let’s take sarcasm and infantilizing speech, for example. Many people consider sarcasm a key component of a good sense of humor. Many people would also agree that using infantilizing speech as terms of endearment is harmless, for example referring to a significant other as “baby.” However, in the context of emotional abuse where the intent is malicious, these behaviors can be extremely cutting, especially when disguised as affection or an innocent remark. For example, someone who repeatedly tells his or her significant other “My baby is so smart” in a way that’s meant to mock their partner’s intelligence using sarcasm as well as infantilizing speech to make them feel small is a form of emotional abuse.

2. “ …which may include verbal aggression, intimidation, manipulation, and humiliation”

The key word here is “may.” Not only is the list of emotional abuse tactics incredibly long and dependent on context, the particular combination of behaviors that show up, how they show up—whether overtly or covertly—and with what intensity can also vary greatly from relationship to relationship. As a result, we have another layer of complexity: emotional abuse doesn’t have one specific look.

For example, an emotionally abusive relationship where overt aggressing behaviors like yelling, threatening and blaming are predominantly used will look very different from a relationship where only very subtle forms of abuse like gaslighting, passive-aggressive put-downs, and minimizing are used.

3. “a pattern of behavior over time”

Emotional abuse is rarely a single event. Instead, it occurs over time as a pattern of behavior that’s “sustained” & “repetitive.”[iii] This particular characteristic of emotional abuse helps explain why it’s so complicated and so dangerous.

Even if you’re the most observant person in the world, emotional abuse can be so gradual that you don’t realize what’s happening until you’re deeply entangled in its web. As a result, the abuse can go unchecked as the relationship progresses, building for months, years, even decades, especially if the abuse is more covert. In such instances, the target’s self-esteem is steadily eroded and their self-doubt becomes so paralyzing that they often have only a vague sense that something (though unsure what) is wrong.

4. “aims to diminish another person’s sense of identity, dignity, and self-worth”

Regardless of how emotional abuse unfolds, experts agree that it has devastating effects on those who are subjected to it.[iv]

Unfortunately, these effects as well as each harmful act of abuse are largely invisible. This makes it difficult for most people to comprehend the very real risks and damage of emotional abuse.

Let’s demonstrate why. For a moment, try to imagine a scene of physical violence, a fight. Even if you’ve never witnessed or experienced it firsthand, your imagination can probably fill in the picture pretty well. The struggle. The adrenaline and fear. The aftermath of blood, bruises, tears. It’s a painful portrait but likely one that you can envision.

Now, try to picture a scene of emotional abuse, specifically someone whose self-identity has been annihilated. Can you see it?

Chances are your mind doesn’t know where to begin. But if you are able to create a picture of either the acts of abuse or what the damage looks like on the person who experienced it, can you put that image into words?

While describing physical wounds is pretty straightforward, it’s much harder to articulate emotional trauma. The parts of a person that sustained emotional abuse destroys—identity, dignity, and self-worth—are abstract, almost impossible to picture or measure.

5. “results in anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts or behaviors, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)”

Because emotional abuse is essentially invisible, singling out the abuse as the culprit of its destructive effects is another kind of challenge and frustration.

Even in cases of extreme emotional abuse, there are no bruises or gashes where the victim can point and say, “This cracked rib is from that constant belittling and invalidation” and “That swollen eye and broken lip are from the incessant name-calling and guilt-tripping and pathological lying.” Instead, what emotional abuse ends up looking like is a person suffering from painful yet not uncommon afflictions like anxiety or depression.

It can therefore be heartbreakingly easy for anyone—whether the person inflicting the emotional abuse, a third-party observer, or even the target of the abuse—to misattribute its damage to some other cause like unemployment or family stress or even blame the target’s prior mental state if he or she battled similar issues in the past.

Closing Thoughts

Hopefully this explanation of emotional abuse is as comprehensive as possible, but I recognize that it’s still bound to have gaps due to the complications I’ve just mentioned. Think of it more as a springboard for future conversations and exploration than an all-encompassing definition.

Emotional abuse, like any other form of cruelty, thrives in the darkness when no one understands, discusses, or recognizes it. Use your newfound knowledge and curiosity to shine the light on the risks and devastation of emotional abuse.

A great place to start is with asking the question, “How does that behavior or action make you feel?” or “Did it ever get emotionally abusive?”

#emotional abuse #abuse #mental abuse #verbal abuse #psychological abuse

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chaotic-good-hawke · 5 years ago

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59 - 'This place is creepy' for whoever you want?

Thank you for the prompt! Here, have some end of Act 1 bants and bonding between Kitty Hawke and the crew!

“This place is creepy.”

Kitty Hawke had toagree with her brother. It really was. When they first entered, it wasn’t sodifferent from the caves and tunnels they were used to, underneath Kirkwall andon the Wounded Coast. But a few days in, things changed.

Currently, they werecamped at an old Dwarven outpost, but it had clearly been overrun by darkspawn.There were bones and…other things that marked it as theirs.

Hawke suppressed ashudder. Memories of the darkspawn were dark and twisted. They took so much.

They were lucky theyhad yet to encounter any.

“I hate the Deep Roads.”Anders said, poking at the fire and pulling his cloak tighter.

Hawke was shocked athow easy it was to convince him to join their expedition. She thought she wasgoing to have to give several pitches, charming him, until he finally agreed.But, he just agreed.

Of all theircompanions, Hawke had to ask Anders to go with them. Maps notwithstanding, hewas the only one who could sense darkspawn and who had spent any actual time there,underground.

She hated asking him tocome. She knew the Deep Roads held bad memories for him, the escape he foundwith the Grey Wardens turning sour, one bad situation swapped for another.

It really is creepy down here.

Sounds echoing, thewalls carved too close in many places, or outright collapsed. And it was cold.So very cold.

She leaned against Anders,trying to convey her thanks and warmth, while also eyeing her brother, who wascurrently stirring the pot of their dinner over the fire. “Come on! It’s not sobad. Add a little paint, straighten out the skeletons, it could be a lovely summerhome.” She threw out her arms for dramatic effect. “Escape from the Kirkwallheat!”

“Right, and we couldhave the darkspawn over for a housewarming party.” Carver said dryly.

“Housecooling party, Spoilsport.”Hawke said, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Idiot.” Carver threwback, but with no bite to it. It was a familiar sparing between them. Sarcasmand jabs, learned from a young age as habit, now impossible to break.

“Hey now, what have Isaid about calling each other names?” Varric said, approaching their fire. Hehad gone off to check with Bartrand, to check their course. “Don’t make meseparate you two.”

“Like you and Bartrandare any better. We could hear him yelling from here.” Carver commented.

“Yes, but he wasn’t yelling at me.” Varricsaid with a wink and taking a seat.

“This time.” Andersadded.

“Exactly.” Varric confirmed.“Now, are we going to eat or what?”

They talked about whattheir other friends would be doing right now, what they would do with themoney, old stories from their adventures. Conversation flowed easy between them.Carver and Hawke traded loving insults and snarky comments the whole time.

Their meal finished,they all took to their bedrolls, to get some sleep before their watch. Hawkecurled up, next to Carver.

She hadn’t spoken aboutit with him, but they both refused to let each other out of their sight or gettoo far from the other. The memories of fleeing Lothering were there, thememory of losing Bethany, always present at the back of their minds.

They didn’t speak aboutit, but they both knew. They didn’t want to lose each other.

In the flickering light,Hawke looked at her little brother’s face.

He is starting to look so much likefather. Maker, I miss him…and Bethany…if only I did things differently…

He opened his eyes andsquinted at her. “What?”

“Nothing.” She said,reaching out and flicking his nose before turning over. “Get some sleep.”

We’ve got each other. That issomething. Even in this creepy place.

But, she couldn’t leaveit there, so she turned back over, just in time for him to flick her nose back.

Hawke crinkled hernose, but looked at him. “Hey, Carver.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, you know.”

There was a pause. Thena sigh.

“I love you, too,Kitty.” He said. “Now let me sleep.” This time he rolled over.

Hawke just smiled andlet herself finally drift off to sleep.

They had a long way to go. But they hadeach other.

If you are interested, this pairs well with this ficlet (warning, it’s angsty).

#dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #My writing #Carver Hawke #dragon age 2 #Kitty Hawke #MY OCs #Hawke #Varric Tethras #anders #it gets a little rambling but here it is #i love my little brother #and so does Hawke!

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theavengerfairy · 4 years ago

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One Step Closer - Chapter 1

Previously known as “Gravity”

Callum had been right. Rayla would never tell him that, but he had been right. Apparently one does not simply walk into Xadia, at least not near the part of the border where Sol Regem dwelled in order to guard the Moonstone Path. Stupid dragons; they thought of everything.

Despite the abundance of monstrous oaks and pines guarding the private alcove she had discovered about an hour before, a cool breeze still managed to caress her skin and ruffle her hair as she sat cross-legged amongst the untamed grass, absentmindedly flicking one of her swords open and closed over and over again as she struggled to produce a feasible solution to her current predicament. Aside from the Moonstone Path, all other ground entrances into Xadia would be heavily guarded on both sides of the border, and crossing over by sea was not an option for more reasons than just her personal phobia. Yep, they were definitely stuck.

"Runaan would know what to do. He always knew what to do."

Rayla's heart clenched painfully in her chest, rousing her guilt from its sound hibernation and sending it scrambling back to its good work of turning her stomach into a hot, nauseous whirlpool. Runaan. Sure, his name had briefly passed through her mind on occasion over the past few weeks, but she had never actually taken a moment to pause and truly think about him ever since her mission to return the Dragon Prince and hopefully stop the war between humans and Xadians began. What had happened to her mentor and the rest of their party that night? Yes, she had seen his shadowhawk arrow sailing through the air and one of her wrist bindings had fallen off, indicating that the king had been successfully assassinated, but that only told her so much. Were they alright? Had they been captured? Had they perished as well?

"You let him live but you've killed us all!"

Rayla sharply shook her head to clear away those jarring words. They had to be okay. It didn't matter if it was impossible; Runaan wouldn't have let anything happen to them. They were probably on their way back to Xadia right now.

"And they are all probably permanently disabled because of you."

No, she couldn't think about that. Optimism may seem just as trivial as fear to her, but at the moment it was all she had. Besides, she didn't have time to dwindle on her comrades' fates; she had her own mission to focus on, which brought her back to her original dilemma. How in the name of Thunder was she going to get her, Callum, and Zym into Xadia undetected?

A wistful sigh escaped Rayla's lips as she returned her blades to her belt and rested her cheek in the palm of her hand while absently staring at the patch of dirt and grass directly in front of her, "I know you would probably still be mad at me, but I really wish you were here, Runaan. I'm out of my element and out of ideas, and the pressure of knowing that I'm in charge of protecting and delivering the one thing that could potentially end the war between humans and Xadia ain't exactly helping me get a creative spark. You would be way more qualified for something like this, and yet this responsibility fell to me....I just don't know how I'm gonna do this...."

"Gah! Rayla!"

Rayla nearly jumped out of her skin and instinctively went for her knives before quickly stopping when she remembered who that voice belonged to.

"Ugh, don't startle me like that! I just about attacked you!" she snapped angrily at Callum, though she was surprised and secretly somewhat impressed that he had managed to sneak up on her without the brush giving him away.

"Well, thank you for not attacking me," Callum answered rather awkwardly, his posture unusually rigid as he anxiously scratched the back of his neck, "So, who were you talking to?"

Hot embarrassment rushed into Rayla's cheeks, dyeing her fair skin the color of ripe moonberries, and she instinctively averted her eyes from Callum as if that would somehow hide her shame.

"Nobody," she mumbled, "I was just thinking out loud is all."

Callum's brow crinkled with concern, his hand falling back to his side as he took a few steps towards her, "Are you okay? You seem upset."

"I'm fine. I'm just...irritated because I can't think of any other way to get us into Xadia."

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself; I know you'll figure something out." Callum purred gently as he deposited himself down beside her and comfortingly grasped her shoulder, his mouth curving upwards in an encouraging grin. However, Rayla's grim expression did not change.

"I wish Runaan were here," she sighed again.

"Runaan? Wait, he was the archer you fought with on the castle wall, right? Is he your brother or something?"

Rayla's face contorted into a look of pure offense. "What? No! How old do you think I am?!"

A larger-than-average bead of sweat slithered down Callum temple, "I'm not going to answer that. Who is he though? You two seemed like you knew each other a little better than just fellow assassins."

"Runaan is my mentor. He taught me everything I know."

"Oh."

Rayla sighed again. "He should be the one leading you into Xadia not me. He has way more experience and training and knowledge than I do, and yet, you got stuck with me instead."

"Well, I'm glad to have gotten stuck with you, Rayla," Callum retorted gently before quickly adding, "and not just because your mentor probably would've killed me by now and taken Zym back to Xadia by himself."

The quiet, undignified snort that echoed from Rayla as her mouth curved into a smirk made Callum's chest swell with a little pride and brought a smile to his face.

"Thanks," she answered, her posture relaxing slightly. However, her muscles went stiff again only a moment later and her eyes grew wider than full moons as she stared at Callum like she had never seen him before, "Wait, Callum, what are you doing here?! Why aren't you watching Zym?!"

Callum's skin turned paler than porcelain as he nervously wrung his hands, his eyes darting to look at anything and everything in the clearing other than Rayla, "Heh, funny you should mention that...."

All of the previous delight and warmth had now vanished from Rayla's face, and in its place lurked an icy shadow that sent shivers down Callum's spine.

"Callum, what's going on?"

"Well, you see...."

———————

"I can't believe you lost the future King of the Dragons! What were you thinking?!"

"He seemed bored, and I remembered Ezran saying he really liked hide and seek!"

"And you thought that was a good idea for a game?! You know, there's this thing inside your head called a brain; you should try using it."

"...You're really mean sometimes, you know that? Besides, it's not like babysitting a dragon is easy!"

"Ezran managed to do it!"

"Well, that's because he had his special gift! I don't speak animal!" Callum grumbled before quickly ducking to avoid being hit in the face by a branch.

The temptation to continue to berate Callum was strong, but after rolling of her eyes in annoyance, Rayla managed to swallow the urge and instead focus her attention on the task at hand, "Just keep looking. He has to have left some kind of trail."

"Unless he flew..." Callum began to argue but his voice broke off when he noticed Rayla glaring at him, "Sorry."

Clenching her jaw, Rayla pushed past a cluster of brush and entered another clearing, and to her frustration, there was still no sign of the baby dragon.

"If you know any kind up special, Sky magic tracking spell, now would be a great time to whip it out," she grunted as she brought her fingers to massage the bridge of her nose in an effort to fend off her impending headache.

One of Callum's eyebrows rose in a skeptical arch, "Was that supposed to be sarcasm or a genuine suggestion? I couldn't really tell."

Exasperation was his answer as Rayla flung her arms up in defeat.

"Who are we kidding? We're screwed!" she cried dramatically as her hands fell back to her sides, her shoulders slumping forward as though heavy weights had been tied to her wrists, "There's no way we're going to find one tiny dragon in this massive forest-"

An ear-piercing screech drowned out of the last of Rayla's words and sent her and Callum both springing into the air. Immediately, their eyes snapped to look at one another, their faces both conveying the exact same fear, and so much as a single second of further hesitation, they darted in the direction from which the voice had come. They ran as fast as they could, Rayla easily taking the lead ahead of Callum as he struggled to keep up, but with every step they took, the forest seemed to throw some stumbling block into their path, whether it be a fallen tree, a gnarled tangle of roots, or a tightly woven thicket of thorns, to slow them down. Still, they pressed onwards, barely aware the sting of branches slapping their arms and faces or the ache of their feet as they stumbled on the uneven forest floor as they raced at a pace that never dipped below a steady sprint. Each of them silently hoped that their shared hunch was wrong but knew full well that the likelihood of such a blessing was slim, and as they rounded a sharp outcropping of rock, the gurgling of water tickling their ears, their hearts and stomachs somersaulted over one another as their eyes beheld exactly what they had feared.

Several yards ahead of them sat a human girl who looked as though she was probably a few years older than Ezran, the sunlight catching on her fiery twin braids as she tranquility lounged with her legs dangling in the cool water of a lazy, crystal clear stream, entirely oblivious of the little imp of a dragon slowly creeping up on her through the grass, tail flicking slowly back and forth as he hunkered down and prepared to pounce. The air caught in Rayla's and Callum's throats as they silently pleaded that Zym would miraculously decide to back down and scamper off before he was noticed, but with a final cocky trill, the baby dragon flung himself into the air and hurdled towards the human.

Rayla nearly screamed, not because of Zym but rather what happened next. When the baby dragon was a mere arm's length arm, the human girl suddenly whipped around and caught him with a speed and ease that startled Callum and Rayla both as they watched, their stomachs sinking further into the sandy pit of horror that had manifested inside each of them. A wicked grin stretched across the redhead's face as she raised Zym high above her head, the dragon squirming and squeaking in protest while his wide, innocent eyes peered down at her. A disorienting lightness filled Rayla's head, leading her to grab onto Callum's scarf to steady herself as she struggled not to faint, and Callum consequently reached out to steady her partially out of concern and partially to stop her from choking him.

"This is bad. This is really, really bad," Rayla moaned woefully.

"Hey, we can't automatically jump to the worst conclusion." Callum peered scrutinizingly at the girl before continued, "She doesn't look scared. Maybe she thinks Zym is just a giant lizard."

"Callum, he has wings! What other reptile do you know of that has wings?!"

"...Yeah, you're right. This is bad."

The ginger had since lowered Zym down to where he was now eye to eye with her, and after an uncomfortable period of silence that left Rayla's skin crawling, the baby dragon gave a giddy chirp and began to playfully lick the girl's freckled cheeks, causing her to giggle.

"You're going to have to do better than that if you want to sneak up on me." she taunted buoyantly, her warm chocolate eyes gleaming as her nose brushed lightly against Zym's, "You're much too noisy and your static made the hairs on my neck and arms stand straight up as soon as you got close. You definitely need to work on that."

Zym merely sang another adorable coo and then resumed licking her face, the girl hardly even flinching as energy sparkled across his tongue and zapped her skin, not that the shocks were even remotely painful to begin with. The tension released from Callum's shoulders as her laughter danced in his ears, but Rayla remained completely rigid, her eyes fixed on the girl in a cold, merciless stare.

"She seems pretty nice. Maybe she won't give us any trouble." the former remarked optimistically, much to the aghast of the latter.

"How could you possibly know whether or not she's nice just by looking at her, Callum?! Didn't Lujanne lecture you that moon magic revolves around the difference between perception and reality?! For all we know, that seemingly innocent human girl could be the acolyte of a dark mage who is merely keeping Zym occupied while she awaits her master's return."

"Or, she could really be just a normal human girl with no dark motives or ill intentions. You can't always just assume the worst about people, Rayla."

"You can't afford to always think the best of them either, especially not in a war."

"Well, what do you suggest we do then? She's already seen Zym; there's not much we can do about that."

Rayla's expression darkened, "We've only got a few options, and you're not going to like any of them."

"Why would you tell me that?! I mean, if you already know I won't like them in the first place then what is the point of telling me about the options at all-Rayla?"

Callum's throat tightened when he realized his friend was no longer beside him. Normally, he found her stealth and skill admirable and rather fascinating, but at the moment, he was more irked and frightened by it.

"Rayla? Rayla?! Rayla!"

"Stay where you are!"

Callum immediately froze where he stood before slowly sneaking a glance over his shoulder to see the redheaded girl standing behind him, her once gleeful face now warped into a suspicious scowl as she pointed her hand at him. At first, the prince was confused, but he soon noticed with a sinking feeling that the girl had some kind of contraption strapped to her wrist. The device closely resembled the crossbows he had seen used by many of the palace guards but on a much smaller scale, and one sweeping, inquisitive glance indicated to him that it was likely rigged to fire when girl clenched her hand into a fist. Okay, maybe Rayla had been right about the girl not being as innocent and sweet as she seemed.

Swallowing thickly to clear away the glow toad-sized lump in his throat, Callum timidly twirled around to face the ginger, hands raised high in the air, and offered her a nervous smile, "Uh, hi?"

At the sound of Callum's voice, Zym's head perked up, and with a happy trill, he popped out from behind the girl and scampered toward the prince, his little mouth stretched into as wide of a grin as he could manage while his tongue stuck goofily out to one side. Momentarily forgetting his terror, Callum dropped down onto his knees and seized Zym into a tight hug as soon as he was within reach, remaining completely oblivious to the incredulous look the redhead was giving him as he cradled the dragonling close.

"Zym! You scared me! No more hide and seek for you, you hear? From now on, we're only playing games that include my eyes being on you at all times!"

The baby dragon whimpered in protest, his head drooping guiltily between his shoulders, but after a moment, he yipped softly in what one could assume was understanding and snuggled himself deeper into Callum's embrace.

"So he isn't alone out here. I guess that should be a relief."

Callum's heart staggered in its beat for a moment, sending a cold shock along every nerve in his body. He had nearly forgotten that he and Zym had an audience.

"Y-Yep, the little goofball is with me! I turned my back on him for a second and he decided to go and explore. T-Thank you for looking after him, Miss....?"

"Madeleine," The girl answered, a small smile forming on her lips as she lowered her weapon. However, her eyes did not lose their inquisitive sparkle, and the look made Callum's insides churn.

"Well, thanks again, but we really should be going now-"

"You haven't told me your name though."

"Oh....uh....it's Callum."

"Callum," the girl purred, testing the way the name rolled on her tongue, "That isn't a very common name, is it?"

"Uh, I guess?"

"I like it. So Callum, what's a baby dragon doing on this side of the border?"

Although the question was asked in the most innocent of tones, it sent the prince's mind scrambling in a wild panic, and before he could regain enough sense to stop himself, he blurted out what possibly had to be one of the stupidest and most unconvincing lies he had ever told.

"Dragon? You mean Zym? Pfft, Zym isn't a dragon!"

"He isn't?"

"No!"

"Oh....what is he then?"

"Well that totally just backfired." the prince mentally chastised himself, "Come on, Callum! Think!"

"He's uh....a draconis....imitatius!"

Madeleine's brow scrunched into a row of wrinkles, "A what?"

"A draconis imitatius! They're called draconims for short!"

"I've never heard of them."

"They're really rare and most people confuse them for dragonlings like you did, so they aren't very well known."

"I guess that makes sense...."

"It totally makes sense!"

"What's the difference between a draconim and an actual dragon, though?"

By now, a thick coating of sweat had totally soaked the hairs on the back of Callum's neck. "You ask of a lot of questions, don't you?"

The girl's cheeks ignited in a rosy blush that rivaled the radiance of her hair, sparking instant regret in Callum that he yearned to snuff out by doing some kind self-inflicted sacrament like slapping himself across the face.

"Sorry, I can get a little nosy sometimes. I should really learn when to shut my mouth."

"No no, it's okay! It's totally normal to be curious about something rare and unique. You didn't do anything wrong!" Callum hurriedly tried to reassure her.

"You look kind of uncomfortable though."

"I do? I guess I'm still coming off the adrenaline rush Zym gave me. I'm so glad he's alright."

"Ah, got it. So back to my original question, what makes a draconim different from a dragon."

"Well...they stay small like this and....they can't actually fly even though they have wings."

"Really?"

"Y-Yep. Kinda sad, isn't it? He has those big wings and he can't even use them..."

It was at that moment that the largest butterfly Callum had ever seen just had to flit past, catching not only his eye but the eye of Zym as well. With an excited shriek, he unfurled his wings and soared after it with a mighty flap, missing it by mere centimeters before sailing back down to the ground with surprising grace. Madeleine's jaw fell agape while Callum's throat swelled shut.

"Did he just-?"

"T-That wasn't flying! That was...gliding! There's a big difference."

Callum could practically see the gears turning in Madeleine's head as she stared scrutinizingly at Zym, but before she could say another word, a dark shadow suddenly passed over them. A collective shriek of surprise from Callum, Zym, and Madeleine cut across the clearing as Rayla appeared seemingly out of thin air and tackled the girl to the ground, her blades already scraping against the skin of Madeleine's throat as she pinned her arms down with her knees.

"Rayla, what are you doing?! Where did you even go?!" Callum exclaimed in horror, his eyes bouncing frantically back and forth between the obviously irritated elf and the frightened human innocent underneath her.

"I was trying to find a good angle from which I could catch her by surprise and knock her out, but then just had to get in the way!" Rayla spat back sourly, "And as if our situation wasn't already bad enough, you just had to go and make it worse with your babbling! Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut?!"

"I was nervous and you had totally disappeared! What was I supposed to do?! Knock her out with a wind spell?!"

"Yes! That's exactly what you should have done!"

"Well, why didn't you jump in earlier and stop me?!"

"Then the other human would've known I was here!"

"You...You're a Moonshadow elf..." Madeleine muttered in disbelief.

"Well, she knows now!" Callum griped, "What do we do-No wait, you said I wouldn't like the options!"

"Callum, would you quit being so dramatic for a second!"

"I'm not being dramatic; I'm panicking! There's a very big difference! What do we do?!"

"Could you please just shut up for a second so I can think?!"

"Madeleine!"

The new voice caught both Rayla and Callum by surprise, but before they could scan for the one to whom it belonged, a ear-piercing, bloodcurdling scream tore through the air and ripped into their heads, threatening to tear their minds into unsalvageable shreds.

#tdp #THE DRAGON PRINCE #tdp oc #tdp fanfic #tdp fanfiction #tdp runaan #runaan #runaan x oc #tdp rayla #tdp callum #tdp zym #Runaan

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oc-review-shop · 7 years ago

Text

OC Review: Ida North

Reviewed by: Mod Charle

I’m gonna be completely honest here... This thing took so long to do.

Sorry for the sketchy quality!

This art is pretty nice and it does show a lot of Ida’s physique and the other aliens as well.

Okay, so she is the protagonist of an idea of a dating sim, that I will never do, or hardly ever, who knows, still, I like developing the characters...

The thing that’s so great about dating sims is that you can make them as weird and extravagant as you want and it can still flow because the premise of it is dating. However, the story will still have to be well thought out and the characters need to fit.

How it starts (its an excuse plot) YOU CAN SKIP READING THIS AND GO TO THE PREMISE

: The protagonist (Ida North) doesn’t get the job she wanted (either because she overslept or because she wasn’t accepted for not meeting all the qualifications) on a travel agency, so her best friend Mabel Attar, offers her a job in her workplace, a faraway Space Station,

Well then. So Ida North is shown (so far) to be irresponsible due to oversleeping and she isn’t very organized or mature because she can’t meet the qualifications for her job. Her friend Mabel offers her a job at a space station? You probably need more clarity on what type of society they live in. Is this like an advanced world where aliens and space are both well known to mankind?

Ida NEEDS the money, so she isn’t gonna waste her time questioning her best friends or suspecting anything shady so she accepts immediately, after all, she isn’t going to spend all her life mooching on Mabel and eating College Student food...

I’m a little confused. So Ida basically lives on Earth while Mabel lives on a faraway space station? Long distance is fine but I mean it would be difficult for Ida to mooch on Mabel. And she’s still eating College Student food? Not gonna lie, that’s a pretty sad life.

On the way there, Mabel tells Ida that she will love her job, that is well paid, and she will soon forget about her Travel Agency desired job, and that she also started with that job, however, it turns out that the job is nothing more than being a glorified janitor, having to clean up rooms and collecting things so other’s could study them, work that could be easily done by machinery, but isn’t because Mabel asked for it so Ida could have the job, Ida suspects that Mabel has more power on the Space Station than what she says.

Mabel is either a god-awful friend giving Ida a janitor job, or a dang good one. Mabel is powerful if she has control of jobs on the Space Station and I really wonder how the two became friends at all if their lives are so different. A well paying janitor job is well near impossible to have, but if Mabel is the all powerful front runner of the station, I’ll let this one slide.

One day, when she enters a room, a massive amphibianish alien, also encounters Ida and is enthusiastic about her presence, very enthusiastic in face, he starts playing with her, nuzzling her, however Ida isn’t taking any of this and knocks a pair of his teeth with a metal bar,

Where’d the metal bar come from?

making it clear that she isn’t a helpless damsel in distress, and swings the bar at the alien menacingly, but he just places his claw on her body, holding her and making eye contact, or something, and taking off her uniform to keep it.

The alien strips her? That’s a little erotic, but I mean it is a dating sim.

I find this really confusing, however. You didn’t give a good background on how society is. Are aliens a normal thing? It was made clear that there is advanced extraterrestrial knowledge due to the space station, but are aliens normal? The alien just randomly jumps on Ida so I’m not sure if aliens are seen as friends or dangerous creatures, or if they’re even known to mankind.

** Side note, I would like to know how Ida was allowed to go up to the space station without training. Like, space is dangerous.

The next day, when Ida and Mabel go to a cafe nearby to celebrate Ida’s first week, and Mabel tells Ida that one of the aliens has escaped, but she shouldn’t worry about it too much, because it probably wasn’t her fault but Mabel would have to retrieve the alien back to its room, and a young looking (about late 20′s) guy, approaches Ida and tackles her, the guy despite looking skinny is actually really heavy, and leaves footprints whenever he walks so its really uncomfortable for Ida, who has no idea of this guy, but they guy just enthusiastically tells Ida that he is going to help her with her dream job and everything, because he wants to make her happy, he introduces himself as Keith Gatti and keeps rambling on very enthusiastically...

I would have been super surprised if someone randomly tackled me. Did Ida at least try to fight back? She is strong so I just want to know if she at least fought back against Keith and tried to kick him off of her.

... It turns out, Keith is the alien that has gone missing, and he really has become infatuated with Ida, but since only Ida, Keith and Mabel know about this, Mabel decides to help them both, and tells Ida that she could, introduce the earth to Keith, and eventually a bunch of other aliens, like a tour guide of sorts, while also developing a growing affection...

So Ida is supposed to introduce the aliens to life on earth, orders from Mabel. There’s nothing wrong with this, and in fact I think it’s a pretty good way to get the story flowing into a dating sim. Background information, like I mentioned earlier, is key, however.

Okay that it, now we cut to the important part (there might be fluff): Premise: The protagonist has to introduce the earth to a bunch of aliens so their plant and earth can form an allyship, while also developing a romance with them.

This is probably the background information I’m looking for, but I feel as if there would be more knowledge about aliens if the society they live in wants to form an allyship with an alien planet.

And now the OC stuff: Name: Ida North Meaning of name: Id: from the Germanic word “id”: Work, labor Age: 30 D.O.B: March 26th (Aries) Height: 1 Meter 75 Centimeters, or 5 feet 9 inches Type of body: Mesomorph Hair style and color: Celebi/Onion style with antennae like fringe, red with brown streaks (dyed) Eye shape and color: Deep set, brown Build: Muscular, beefy Voice: Orotund, rough Romantic and Sexual Orientation: Bi for both

She’s a very muscular and strong woman, who is actually already 30. She is really different from your usual dating sim girl. Most girls, I believe would either be in their teens or early 20′s. However, I suppose her age does work out since she is supposed to be helping out aliens, and teens aren’t exactly the type for that.

A resume of her personality: Grumpy, snarky, and a bit sour, Ida seems like your typical jaded person, who has lost all faith in the world, but this couldn’t be further from the truth, since Ida loves the earth and appreciates the beauty of nature and technology, though due to her insecurities and bad experiences she hides her love with layers and layers of jerk.

I could definitely see Ida being the type of person to care for a lot of things, but hide it all behind a facade. Is there a reason for her to hide herself, though? Having insecurities as bad as her don’t usually pop up out of nowhere.

Personality traits: Snarky: Whether in a good mood or a bad mood, Ida always seems to convey her thoughts in a good dose of irony and sarcasm Rash: Ida doesn’t usually think about the consequences of her actions, and oftenly acts on a whim, only caring about the now Strong Willed: She isn’t going to give up on anything Hardworking: When she has to do something, she does it with whole dedication Appreciative: She loves the world, and its beauty, and how it stays strong, despite everything Insecure: She doesn’t think highly of herself Aggressive: She conveys her insecurity this way Adventurous: She loves new experiences and challenges, she isn’t afraid of the future, but rather a lack of future

At first I was a little iffy about Ida being insecure and strong willed/hardworking at the same time. There isn’t an easy way to connect these without heavy amounts of character development and such. However, you did mention that Ida conveys her insecurity through aggressiveness, and not the other personalities.

I do have one issue though, and that is her lifestyle compared to her personality. She was previously said to be in a bad position where she oversleeps and has her life in a mess, yet she is hardworking. This doesn’t connect. If she was hardworking, she wouldn’t miss a job interview for anything, especially if it’s a dream job.

Relationships:

With Mabel: They have been best friends since very young, and they often confide each other’s secrets, Mabel also wants to help Ida with her quest. Although she may have a secret crush on her.

I would honestly like to see Mabel be a path for this dating sim. Just me? Ok.

With Keith: He is the first alien she meets and one of the most effusive and enthusiastic about the earth, he often shows a lot of affection towards Ida, though he has toned down the touchy feeliness and tries to keep a reasonable distance. Not that he won’t hug Ida every now and then, in both his alien and human form.

He’s a good depiction for the first route in the dating simulator. Having a bubbly and outgoing character compared to Ida’s tough character is a pretty fun match and would keep the game interesting.

With Drake: Drake is the second alien that meets Ida, they started with a rough fight that Ida barely won, he respects her now, but has drawn lines she is not allowed to cross. Although he is willing to see if she wants to cross those lines and to fight her.

Drake is a tiny little alien, and is smaller than Ida, so I would understand how Ida would be able to beat him in a fight. However, it is a little inaccurate to have Ida beat Drake given that he is an alien. More clarification on the strength of this alien species and their abilities would be more beneficial, just as extra background information.

With Caleb: Despite their initial interactions, being scarce and in the shadows, they have found themselves fond of each other, and having similar yet different tastes, but only think of themselves as friends. Or in the case of Caleb, he sees her as food, but he has another reason, rather than wanting a snack, something having to do with his species and fatherhood, although he is trying not to because he appreciates her company.

Ida’s relationship with Caleb is super confusing not gonna lie. They have a friendship going, but Caleb does see Ida as food? Again, more clarification on the alien species themselves would be beneficial in understanding the different types of aliens we come across. Caleb is also giant and scary as hell.

With Xander: He wants Ida to open a bit up more, and often opts for her security and comfort, wanting others to see them as each other’s protector, and he is willing to hear her most inner desires and insecurities. Although he also feels insecure and has shown a jealous streak.

I actually like the relationship between Xander and Ida. It’s good to have different personalities in dating sims, and you really nailed this.

With Shiro and Kuro: Shiro and Kuro are two eerily coordinated security guards that watch how the relationships develop, and both would love to have Ida as a guinea pig every now and then.

This might be a little unnecessary to have, but if you elaborate on Shiro and Kuro’s significance in the story, it would be better. They are supposed to watch over and guard, but for a dating sim, they aren’t necessary, UNLESS, the society still sees aliens as dangerous. Again, background information is KEY.

Other stuff** -She is an A cup and wears a pushup bra -She is not a vegetarian but would rather eat veggie food than hamburgers and hotdogs, she DESPISES them -She has gardening knowledge -She has gone camping several times. She LOVES camping -She had a dog, who died of old age -She has travelled by air, land, and sea -She knows English, German, Spanish, and Portuguese, she is currently learning French -Her favorite flowers are buttercups

She has a flat chest. Wow. But I’m not surprised about this looking at her physique. The second bullet point technically means she is a vegetarian if she despises meats.

I hope you like it, and if you are interested, I might do the profilies of the four main boys, and maybe Mabel and Kuro and Shiro

This was overall, a pretty decent story given the amount of work that needs to go into a good story. There are some good points in this dating sim idea, but there are also a lot of fixes that need to be made; a lot of them being major. However, with these fixes I mentioned, this could potentially be a very good idea.

I wouldn’t mind looking at the other profile characters, but it may take a while to get it back to you since they are fairly long. This took me a while to write just because of the mix of grammar and length.

Thank you for submitting/reading, and I hope this helps! (●´ω｀●)

~ Mod Charle

#dating sim #datingsimoc #alienoc #daniluni

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oneweekoneband · 7 years ago

Video

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“And if not I’ll take my spoons, dig out your blue eyes, swallow them down to my colon, they’re gonna burn like hell tonight.”

While Can’t Slow Down garnered Saves some local attention, it was their sophomore album, 1999’s Through Being Cool, that served as their breakthrough, the release that made them a major name within the scene. Listening to it even now, it’s easy to see why -- Saves’ musical skill had grown significantly in the year since Can’t Slow Down, incorporating a more varied range of sounds and tones, and even Conley’s voice had grown more distinct and confident after a year of practice. And while Can’t Slow Down was surprisingly fully-formed when it came to many of the themes that would come to define Saves’ career, there’s one signature technique that didn’t emerge until Through Being Cool -- the use of grotesquely violent, often hyperbolic imagery.

Nowhere is this more clear than in “Rocks Tonic Juice Magic” [embedded above]. Although it’s technically about the tumultuous relationship between the narrator and an ex-girlfriend, the spark that powers the song is violence. Tonally it’s one of the heaviest songs on the album, opening on a riff so angry it practically growls and closing with a driving, pulsating outro. Conley’s layered, almost choral chant of “You and I are like when fire and the ocean floor collide” gives the outro an especially epic feel, not just sonically, but in the sense that it’s equating the narrator and his ex’s relationship to a natural disaster, making them forces of nature who can’t even meet without causing major damage to each other and everyone around them. In every sense this is a violent song.

Despite the force of nature comparison, though, the narrator mostly just comes across as unstable, still hung up on his ex even as he hates her with an incomparable passion. He fondly reminisces of Saturdays they spent on the boardwalk, yet says if they were there now he’d throw lemonade in her face and watch her cry; he opens the song essentially saying that he wants to hurt her with a saw, but also carry a piece of her with him always. The narrator implies that his ex was a real piece of work, but I also can’t blame her for wanting to leave him/not going back.

I have an uncomfortable relationship with this song’s use of violence that I’ve always had a difficult time articulating. Other Saves the Day songs (such as “My Sweet Fracture” or “Through Being Cool,” which we discussed yesterday) fantasize about violent revenge but then rise above, or use violence as a metaphor for painful emotions, but “Rocks Tonic Juice Magic” plays its violence completely straight. I don’t think Saves is condoning hurting others (and the violence in this song would be almost impossible for a normal person to replicate in the first place), and I actually quite like plenty of songs featuring harmful actions and attitudes (“Factories,” “Desert,” “No One Else”), but those songs all also make it fairly clear that their narrator is in the wrong, while “Rocks’” narrator is a bit too close to the narrator of any other Saves the Day song for comfort.

There’s also the fact that the violence in “Rocks” is specifically directed towards a woman. Again, I do not for a moment think Saves has ever advocated for or condoned violence against women, but playing “Rocks’” violence so straight in a scene that already has a fraught relationship with women’s safety in the first place is a risky move. Even just within the past few months, there’s been stories of male “fans” trying to force themselves on female musicians on stage, or bands within the scene making inappropriate advances towards women or even drop-kicking female fans off the stage, and I’m sure things were even worse in 1999.

Thankfully, Saves the Day seemed to realize that they may have made a misstep here. “Rocks Tonic Juice Magic” is one of their more popular songs and still sees regular play at live shows, but Conley has been known to sometimes begin the song with a speech about how the violence in his songs is never meant to be taken literally and how Saves doesn’t condone violence. More importantly, they’ve since avoided making more songs in this vein, directing their violent lyrics back towards themselves instead of towards women.* The best example of this on Through Being Cool comes from “You Vandal.”

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As far as I’m concerned, Conley’s penchant for poetically violent imagery hits harder when directed back at himself anyway. In “You Vandal” it’s used to represent the narrator’s pain, the emptiness he feels while his girlfriend is gone on a long trip overseas. His loneliness is so painful that it’s metaphorically manifesting as open wounds; his ribs part, no longer willing to protect his heart. “I hope that you’re okay, even though I’m dying,” he tells her, saying that her absence is so profound that it might as well be killing him.

Yet, despite his own pain, the narrator still wants her to have a killer time on her trip. “Go see the volcanoes, go see the rainforests, I’ll be fine by myself, yeah I’ll be fine without these bones,” sings Conley, without a hint of sarcasm. By building up the narrator’s pain so acutely through gorey imagery, Conley has made his kindness and love for his girlfriend all the more powerful. It’s the sweetest song about organs dripping from open wounds that I’ve ever heard in my life.

Personally, though, my favorite “violent” Saves the Day song came a few years later.

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“Bones” (from 2006’s Sound the Alarm, which we’ll dig more into on Thursday) starts off with jagged, off-kilter notes, becomes oddly happy in its middle (complete with beautiful harmonies), and concludes with a blistering outro -- the almost schizophrenic nature of the music echoes the scattered, pained headspace of the narrator, whose paranoia is outlined more clearly in the lyrics.

The narrative does this, not by telling a literal story, but a metaphorical one. This is a story that takes place completely within the narrator’s head, a situation where the actions of the townspeople are meant to be horrific, because the narrator is afraid that this is what everyone around him is really like: violent, hateful, and out to get him. Their grotesque actions show the toll the narrator’s paranoia is taking on him -- he’s afraid that this dark fate awaits him, but his own paranoid reactions may be negatively affecting the people around him in the first place. This is quite possibly the apex of violent imagery as a storytelling device in a Saves the Day song; Conley doesn’t tell us a single detail about the narrator’s life, but we’re able to learn so much about what he’s going through just because of this one dark fantasy.

Although Saves the Day have mostly shied away from violent imagery in their most recent albums, these kind of lyrics have still become one of the most well-known trademarks of the band. It makes sense -- Saves have made it their mission to talk about the pain they feel and the pain they share with their fans, and violence and pain go hand-in-hand. When used properly, a few grotesque lyrics can convey the kind of pain, fear, and longing that might take another band an entire album to hash out.

*The only real exception to this is “As Your Ghost Takes Flight,” from 2001’s Stay What You Are. “Ghost” is, in some ways, an even more violent song than “Magic,” but it’s also a much less popular one that rarely, if ever, sees live play. Other than that, though, Saves has never returned to writing songs like “Magic,” and have outgrown or largely avoided altogether the kind of misogyny that’s sadly come to define many of their contemporaries.

#Saves the Day #Rocks Tonic Juice Magic #You Vandal #Bones #Through Being Cool

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gothtistic-stims · 7 years ago

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I was feeling invalid

Quick warning: the is a *long* post, and the invalidity I felt was actually remedied by writing this, so do not feel obligated to read it all! Sure, when I was younger I chose to be alone a *lot*, but I had friends. I was socially awkward, sure, but what 5 year old is really that great at being social? Yeah, whenever I went somewhere new I would cling to my sister and be completely unable to make new friends, but by the same token, at a *very* young age I figured out an algorithm for making and maintaining friendships: compliments! I think it was when I was 8 that I figured this out, which was fortunate because at around 7 kids were no longer friends with the entire class, and making friends was no longer easy. At 7, I found myself alone at recess nearly every day, hyperfixated on finding 4-leaf clovers (I was finding at least 1 a day at one point), so when I discovered the compliment algorithm I was able to smoothly transition and continue making friends. Of course, I still chose to be alone for a vast majority of recesses. But being asocial doesn't mean I'm autistic. I was an extremely naiive child, kids easily lied to me and I believed them. But being naiive in and of itself doesn't necessarily mean I'm autistic. When I was in kindergarten I was friends with someone. Close friends. In first grade, however, she avoided me like I was the plague. I cried and cried, and even confronted her, and she basically just told me "idk, I guess I just don't really like you." But having a person dislike me doesn't mean I'm autistic. I was always moving as a child, I had attention problems, and I also was diagnosed with both adhd and ocd when I was only 8. I talked too fast and was known to mumble (I say "was" as if I don't still do those things now lol). I also many times forget the word I want to use, and I end up blabbering nonsense trying to figure out how to convey what I want to say. Sometimes I don't forget whole words, I can't translate my thoughts because my thoughts aren't organized like normal thoughts. A majority of the time I am thinking in either pictures or feelings rather than words, and I simply can't say anything related to the topic I want to talk about because in my mind there are literally no words to even begin explaining it. I'm 1000% better at writing than talking. But speech problems don't necessarily mean I'm autistic. I guess I had experience with going partially nonverbal, but I never had a word to describe being physically unable to speak or initiate conversations unless spoken to first. But again, going partially nonverbal sometimes doesn't mean I'm autistic. When I was little my sister was diagnosed with aspergers. She would throw huge tantrums/melt down easily, so a lot of the focus went to her. I never really had any melt downs. In fact, when I was 6, my sister paid me a nickle to not cry in front of her, and it took *years* to be able to cry in her vicinity again. However, I was certainly not immune to crying; I was an empath. If you were crying, chances were I was crying too. Whenever my sister had a meltdown I would feel her pain, and I would hide in my favorite place underneath the same chair. I *had* to cry there. But high empathy doesn't mean I'm autistic - in fact, there's even a stereotype that autistics don't feel empathy at all. When I was 11, I was half forced out of my friend group and half decided for myself to leave it. I had one friend at the time, and she (let's call her "M") was hella popular. I never fit into the friend group. I was invited to fewer and fewer parties as time went on, and no one in the group except for my one friend liked me. Eventually she stopped liking me too, and I was left to fend for myself. But being disliked doesn't mean I'm autistic. I was briefly friends with the girl I was assigned to share a seat with on the bus. We started a whole mini show routine that we would do every day on the bus. It was called the Stupid and Cupid Show. Despite my efforts to get her to change the name, I was stuck being known as "Stupid." I never realized at the time how horrible that name made me feel, but it didn't matter, because eventually she left me as well. As is said in the last paragraph, being disliked doesn't mean I'm autistic. In seventh grade I was looped into a whole strange "family" (which is a story for another time) and suddenly had a *ton* of people considering themselves to be friends with me. It was around then that I realized I was touch averse, because PEOPLE I DIDN'T KNOW KNEW MY NAME AND KEPT HUGGING ME WITHOUT ASKING. Fortunately this didn't last long either, because like all of my frienships, it dissolved pretty quickly. This time, however, everyone blamed me for something I didn't do, and I was left with that entire huge group hating me. I didn't even find out why everyone suddenly hated me until a year later. But useless teen (not even, we were like ~11-12 years old) drama doesn't mean I'm autistic. My entire time in middle school was honestly horrible. My typical algorithm for making friends stopped working, and while I found a temporary replacement (empathizing with people as conversation) it was not nearly as effective. I was never exactly bullied per se, I just got stuck in the same classroom with some really fuckin mean people. I called them all "Tapper Dude." They would bang out off beat tunes on their desks *constantly*. This banging was sensory HELL ( though i didn't know the term "sensory hell" yet). I was going home and often crying because of the stress of being trapped with these people who wouldn't stop (the teachers didn't even try to stop them despite my many, many complaints). I couldn't do anything, couldn't work,couldn't concentrate, and would literally beg my teachers to let me work in the hallway so I could finally have some peace. They literally never let me work in the hallway, despite it being silent (except for that damn banging) individual work. ( I'm honestly still fuckin pissed that my teachers did nothing to help me!) But being hypersensitive to some banging on a desk doesn't mean I'm autistic. Jumping back to never being able to sit still, I still stim today. Not nearly as much then as I do now though. The need to stand rather than sit in my desk at school coulde easily be attributed to my adhd. On top of needed to stand, I was always doodling on my worksheets. Teachers would make me redo the entire sheet if they found my doodles, or they would grab my drawing off of my desk and crumple it up and throw it in the trash. Even as I type this now, my legs are shaking and bouncing and hitting each other. But this could easily be blamed on my having adhd. Having ADHD doesn't mean I have autism. I had weird fixations when I was younger. At 5 it was finding 4-leaf clovers, at 9 it was arranging bookshelves, which after ~6 months evolved into an obsession with reading classics. At only 9 years old, I attempted to read the entirety of Mobey Dick (I didn't get a chance to finish, the school year ended and I had to return the book to the school library 😣). Up until I was 8 I was obsessed with all things medical ( which involved reading the same 3 books over and over and over again). At 17 I became obsessed with slugs /sea slugs ( as I'm sure many of you are aware) along with developing an obsession with autism in and of itself. And ever since I was 5, I've been obsessed with hypnosis, the topic is in my brain basically 24/7, though I try to ignore this obsession because it's nearly impossible to find good media representations of it. I was exposed to porn at a very young age because of my seeking out hypnosis related material, and ever since then I've been wary of seeking it out for fear of finding even more erotic content 😣😣😣. Basically, what I'm saying is, I have had special interests, but I've also seen that something similar (hyperfixations) can be found in, once again, adhd!! So special interests don't necessarily mean I'm autistic. Eye contact. Hello darkness my old friend :)). I honestly have always hated eye contact, but, just like with my social skills, I figured out a loophole at an extremely young age. Foreheads and noses are an autistics best friends, and using these tools, I believe I've effectively fooled everyone I've encountered into think I have good eye contact. Honestly, up until I learned more about autism, I kinda just assumed eye contact was a figure of speech or something that people said better never actually did. But poor eye contact doesn't mean I'm autistic. Figures of speech are weird. I often overthink them to the point of incomprehensibility. I use figures of speech all the time (in fact I believe I used one earlier in this very post), but I've begun to suspect that all of the figures of speech I "understand" are only understood because school spent so much time drilling the meaning into my head. My suspicions arised from the fact that whenever I hear a new figure of speech, I don't understand what it means, even sometimes after it's been explained to me. On top of that, with sarcasm, I can only understand it if it's used by someone I know well. Understanding or not understanding figures of speech don't necessarily mean I'm autistic though. I've always been accident prone. I crash into walls and tables and chairs. I've also fallen both up and down the stairs. My fine motor movements also took much longer to develop as compared to others. Messy scissor cuttings, messy shirt after eating, and messy handwriting. My mom calls my handwriting "chicken scratch", though I personally don't think it's that bad. But poor coordination doesn't mean I'm autistic. When I was little, I only ate like 3 things. Everything else was considered absolutely disgusting. My parents would literally pay me to try certain foods, but it usually ended up being gross or a bad texture. Smells could also be *incredibly* overwhelming. Ketchup especially. I was supposed to clear the table every day, but whenever my parents used ketchup, I would either cry until they let me off the hook or pay my sister to do it for me. Even now, I refuse to even touch a clean ketchup bottle, it's just g r o s. My mom also eats this really gross cranberry chicken salad thing that I can't even be on the same level of the house when she's eating it because it'll literally cause me to cry. I also can't touch the carpet barefoot, and certain textures are *horrid*. Though not formally diagnosed with either autism or sensory processing disorder, I am 100% sure I have sensory processing disorder. My sensory issues are worse than my sister's, and she's actually been diagnosed with autism! From others, I've never really mentioned that I think I'm on the autism spectrum; I don't think they'd believe me. I seem to hold a conversation just fine! ( that is,until we're in a group of more than two people. Then I lose the ability to tell when it's my turn to speak, so I end up remaining silent, half because I don't know when it's my turn and half because I can never get a word in anyway). Sure, the few friends I have (the empathy algorithm stopped working because my friends broke me and I actually lost all empathy, which I'm still trying to recover from. The latest algorithm is bombarding the person with questions when you can't get a conversation going. * something* has to spark a conversation, right!? W r o n g. This is why I'm down to 3 or 4 friends.) all agree I'm incredibly socially awkward. And sure, I fill any silence with stimming, usually involving grabbing things I'm not supposed to touch or poking the person I'm with (idk man, my brain goes into panic mode and it just keeps repeating "poke them" until I appease it). In fact, just yesterday I hung out with a friend, and we had a casual good time. It's times like these that *really* make me question whether or not I'm autistic. Though it may sound like it, I'm not saying it's impossible for an autistic to have friends - in fact, in the short year that I've had this blog, I've managed to befriend quite a few of you wonderful people! I guess I'm just saying that while autistics can have friends and still be valid, *I* can't. Of course, having no friends doesn't mean I'm autistic ( much in the same way having friends doesn't mean I'm *not* autistic ). Overall, I'm worried my social awkwardness / social deficits, though they do exist, aren't enough to actually consider myself autistic. I am confident that I have ADHD and SPD, but what if those two are just combining to closely mimic autism? My blog has gotten fairly popular, and I'm really feeling invalid tonight, so I figured I'd outline the main symptoms and let you guys determine if you're okay with me running an autism blog and using the tags. I still think I have autism, and I shouldn't need to get validation from strangers on the internet, but I felt like it was important to outline this.

#actuallyautistic #?#actually autistic #Am I autistic #My post #Valid

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okaywhateverokayyes · 7 years ago

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Principles

Prompt: What was meant to be a joke, an ill-attempt at humor, had turned into something entirely different.

(Or the story where Magnus makes it clear as to what exactly his principles are)

“You’re sick, Alexander.”

Alec blinked, raising his brow questioningly as he crossed his arms across his chest, almost defensively, as if that insinuation was a direct insult to undermine his vigor and fortitude. He glanced down at himself, swiping his hand across his face almost subconsciously, also curious as to what exactly he had on his face for such an observation to be made.

His eyes weren’t swollen, his nose wasn’t stuffy, there was no flaky patches of skin anywhere in the area-which, if they had been, would have been something entirely different to be wary about. He rubbed at his jaw before leveling his head to shrug at Magnus, indignantly.

“I’m fine.” Subtlety was never his thing anyway.

Magnus waved his index finger in the air, poising determinedly as he took two giant steps, closing the minimal gap that had separated them just a second ago. Alec hitched his breath, glancing down at Magnus as he swayed his, now lightly lit blueish hue finger, against his throat.

Alec was amused, yet stymied his lips etching upwards. “What exactly are you doing?” He watched as Magnus hovered his hand over his neck, pursed his lips, arching his brows as if only he was seeing something that Alec was oblivious to, before guiding his finger up towards his forehead. He snapped his fingers together, before pressing his cool palm against the temple of his head.

So he kept quiet, waited for Magnus to just finish he wanted to do, well-aware of how futile it would have been for him to contest. He settled on staring at the wall farthest to them, noticing nothing in particular, as it had been a wall he had walked past everyday for years. Yet, somehow, he found it that much more interesting-maybe to distract himself as nimble hands hovered over his skin-so close, yet so far away.

All Alec had to do was feign a slip before his body was pressed up against Magnus’, enveloped by his familiar hands and warming touch. It was as if they knew where they would needed to gravitate their hands, where to grasp, as if it was mundane and all too much familiar.

Instead, Alec wavered his eyes yet once more back at Magnus, lips curving slightly upwards in solidarity as he watched him continue to demonstrate his multitude of unfamiliar yet entirely abating artistry. There was a sense of ethereal warmth that emanated from magnus every time he displayed his warlock prowess, that he wondered if anyone else could sense it.

No, it wasn’t just the visual allure that captivated him-one, no one could have been privy to. It was this immense fervor he interjected in every sway, in every touch, in every expension of his capabilities. As if he was offering what he could to the best of his ability and nothing he ever did was half-way but wholeheartedly earnest.

“Magnus.” Alec said, dropping his hands to his sides only to slide them behind his back, kneading his fingers together.

“Yes.” He responded, without imbuing a glance in Alec’s direction, intent on figuring out something-anything to substantiate his previously mentioned claim.

Alec jabbed his hands into his back, his mind scouring over thoughts that he had meant to center, those he hoped wouldn’t render him incapable of maintaining some decent level of composure when he wasn’t in the confines of his room. Yet, as he watched as eager eyes looked right back at him eventually, after an intrepid silence washed over them both, he swallowed a bit before nodding in solidarity-as to convey his insistence to continue, find out what’s wrong with me.

He couldn’t continue to stare at Magnus, as if that would have absconded his loosely strung hold on his emotions. Alec ran over in his mind the protocols attributed to a level 4 demon incursion.

Over the past couple of weeks, they’ve trained in novel techniques as to increase unpredictability. For their own good, it was deemed apt to practice in maneuvers that were unexpected and yet entirely, effective. He had gotten better with aiming at angles his focus had been privy to. Right leg under, left shoulder strikes were those that rendered him vulnerable to the most slips, so he would advance his targets counter to his blindspots as if to ameliorate the few strikes that would have made through.

Levels were monopolized in an effort to categorize them into seismic groups, to have better understandings with as much particular details as possible that isolated them overall, and yet, generalized their capabilities simultaneously. It was the greatest fallacy in the order that usually ended with fatalities that could have been prevented if changed.

He knew he would bring this up at the enclave seminary, as did he feel the need to mention other things-but if they were to hear of the onslaught of changes he wanted to make, he was sure that on top of keeping a suspicious eye, they too would have upgraded that to a stringent off-limit policy enacted just for him so that it would have made it impossible for him to vocalize any, if at all, of his concerns.

Baby steps, he supposed, was the way to making actual concrete changes. And even as he became complacent with that thought, time was not on their side.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” Magnus slid his hand downwards to grip his shoulder, running his thumb in circles, absentmindedly, yet so purposefully.

“Nothing interesting.” He answered truthfully, straightening his shoulders but lurching forward as to not have Magnus loosen his grip. “So-“ he said, intent on hearing the conclusions, “What are you diagnosing me with?” Alec, more than anything, wanted to bemuse Magnus’ observations.

Magnus held his gaze in contemplation. “Well,” he started off with, “over-exhaustion, malnutrition, sleep depravity, to name a few.” He looked away abashedly, grinning offhandedly. Alec wanted to scoff but settled for raising his brow in interest.

Alec whisked his lips downwards in a frown as he absorbed the words. “That’s-” Absurd. Ridiculous. “Inaccurate.” He settled for, emulating Magnus’ previously done actions almost subconsciously as he smoothened at wrinkles that had not existed at the helm of his undercoat.

Magnus gave him a wistful smirk. “And how exactly are you, Alexander Lightwood, coming to that conclusion?”

Alec shrugged. He turned on the heel of his foot in the opposite direction of where he had initially meant to go- main op room- and decided that fresh air, whatever he could glean from the neighboring area, was much needed. Magnus followed beside him.

“I would know if I’m dealing with any of that.” He waved dismissively, as if those diagnoses hung in the air above him, daunting him almost seamlessly if not unwaveringly. They stuck to him as if they were concrete diagnoses to have been made after a thorough examination.

Magnus deadpanned as he strode in motion alongside Alec, parsing his lips in what Alec presumed to be, contemplation.

“Do you?”

Alec glanced at Magnus, raising his brow.

“Would you know if you were sleep deprived, malnourished and exhausted?” He clarified, lips thinned in discreetness.

Alec pondered briefly as to why he was being asked. Of course he would know, it was his body, afterall. And yet, he let the easy silence fall over them as he questioned if it was easy to know, at all.

“Maybe your body is habituated to your ailments.” Magnus said, offering a meek smile in return. To which, Alec reciprocated the notion, yet it felt more forced than he had intended for it to be.

Having to hear that his body had become accustomed to his indispositions-well, if that wasn’t daunting enough.

So he caved into that idea as he stopped in front of Magnus, placing his flattened hand against Magnus’ chest.

“Am I going to die?” He had meant for it to be an ill-attempt at sarcasm and yet as he watched as Magnus palled in return, it had been more ill than humor.

Magnus shrugged. “Not sure. At this rate, atrophy is imminent.” Magnus ruminated, whispering jargon under his breath, unbeknownst to Alec. “Dysplasia, hair loss, collagen depravation- those are all well-dependent on your course of action.” He drily said, sliding past him as he strode down the corridor.

Alec was nimble as he followed suit.

“Wait- you are being serious?” Alec croaked, picking up pace as Magnus pushed through the wide doors in ease. It was as if he maintained his usual pace and yet, Alec had to expend a little more effort as he struggled to follow from behind.

Magnus was a warlock, which for all intensive purposes, somewhere in the job description entailed perceptiveness to others’ ailments. Alec scourged for any other rationale but gave up shortly as he lunged in front of Magnus in a manner unusual of him.

He shook his head brazenly. “Wait a minute, just-wait!” He hadn’t meant for it to shout and yet, as he watched Magnus’ response, he was left relieved as warm eyes met his. “Sorry,” he said anyway, contrite for the tone of his voice, “I didn’t mean to be-“

“Alexander.” Magnus chuckled, lips etched upwards noticeably more sincere than stoic. “I’m kidding.”

Alec blinked in verbatim. At first, nothing sprung in his head. No visceral emotion, nothing. And yet, as he wavered his eyes in the lull quiet that fell over them, he tilted his head.

“That’s-“ not funny. Cheeky. “Okay.”

And it was.

It was just okay.

Magnus drew his brows inwards. “I’m sorry.” He offered, his smile widening.

Alec tried to play it off. Shrugged offhandedly. Threw on a convincing smile.

And to no avail, Magnus saw right through him.

“I apologize, Alexander.”

Yet, it does nothing to assuage whatever turmoil crept up in the pit of his stomach. It was not that he needed to hear an apology because to be honest, that wasn’t his concern. He wasn’t really angry at Magnus and yet, he felt something that he couldn’t necessarily pinpoint if he had to. It wasn’t annoyance, or disappointment, not even desperation.

It was-

Something entirely different.

“Without your permission, I would never violate implicit mutual understanding, Alexander.”

Alec drew in a sharp exhale.

Because-

Shit.

Is that what it was?

Implicit mutual understanding.

A violation?

“Magnus I never-“

“As high warlock of Brooklyn, a title rather obscene in the grander scheme of things,” he rolled his eyes as his voice wavered, “with nothing more than simple doctrine, have chosen to neither examine nor disclose any information that was never asked of me and that I, cannot duly do so, for the very reason that I, Alexander, have principles to uphold.”

Magnus watched him with weariness that seeped into Alec’s skull.

Principle.

“Even if you were sick, I wouldn’t know,” his voice dulled as he continued, “And I would not know until you have decided to tell me, yourself. And I trust that you would,” Magnus was stern as he said, only to fluster as he lightly smiled, “considering how keen shadowhunters are on preliminary examinations and such-“

Alec felt a surge of fervor that washed over him, so he curled his hand around Magnus’ back and pushed him forward, Alec instinctively resting his cheek against Magnus’ soft and sleek hair. He breathed in the musty air, the familiar smoldering wisp of hydrangeas from the garden above and soaked in the husky warm and yet breeze that emanated from Magnus.

It was a scent he never could really describe.

Yet, even as the ambiguity pestered him-

The thought of knowing that he had time-years he hoped, to one day discern, what exactly Magnus Bane’s incense was-Alec pressed his lips to his scalp as he mumbled a languid “I love you” that only they both were able to hear.

He doesn’t have to wait for even a meager second to pass before Magnus dragged his hands and placed them firmly around Alec’s waist.

“I love you.”

#alexander lightwood #Alec Lightwood #malec #magnus bane #shadowhunters #angst like woah #humor #ill-attempt at humor #minor spoilers #established relationship #fic prompt

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